"Pursue, keep up with, circle round and round your life, as dog does his master's chaise. Do what you love. Know your own bone, gnaw at it, bring it, unearth it, and gnaw it still." --Henry David Thoreau

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Thursday, March 23, 2006

Quick Vent

I need to vent this real quick so I can move on with my life.

I have a briefing/press conference scheduled through a congressman’s office on the Hill. I need snacks for this meeting. Meetings in Senate or House office buildings can only use their respective internal catering for said snacks.

I have left five effing messages with various people on this congressman’s staff who are at the level where they should know who the hell caters things. Days go by and NOTHING.

Today, I am not taking no for an answer. I finally get some letter opener on the phone, explain the situation, and he has no idea, maybe can’t even spell catering and so he transfers me to the press office. The cute little thing who answers the phone there proceeds to argue with me about who I should be talking to about catering needs. While I assume it would be easier for her to just tell me, she decides to take the General Custer approach and refuses to tell me who to call or even google.

She wants to connect me to the person who set up the meeting, but guess what, he’s a high level staffer, and it would be rather embarrassing for me to be like, “Hey, I know you’re in the middle of worrying about the invisible primary or how to demonize diet caffeine-free sprite or something, but I really need to get some brownies to some reporters.” Yeah, not so much.

So this little trollop keeps insisting that I talk to this guy. I keep insisting it is highly unlikely that he will know more than her on this matter. She argues she didn't book the meeting. I argue it doesn't matter, I just need a number. She puts me on hold for five minutes. Comes back with a I don't know who you should call for this event. So I say to her: “Listen, you’re in the press shop, you help with press conferences, check people in and what not. I assume there occasionally are parched reporters and interns at these events looking for a bottle of water, diet coke or whatever you’ll give them for free. How do you get these sodas and snacks?! Who do you call?! WHO?” She started to argue, left me on hold for five more minutes and then gives me a number.